Harry Potter and the Black Aura
by Mr. Oogie Boogie 94
Summary: When the Dark Lord awakens from his slumber, Order of the Phoenix is strenghten by Nicholas Flamel and his allies. How will Harry and his friends handle the presence of the immortal alchemist? Set during OotP.


**Hey there guys, Oogie Boogie here, to bring you the new exciting tale! This is a kind of a crossover between **_**Harry Potter **_**and **_**The Secrets of Immortal Nicholas Flamel**_**. Both are really fascinating and incredibly well written fantasy stories filled with magic and action. I will not however put this story into a crossover category, simply because the Flamel series doesn't seem to get a lot of attention and I would really appreciate your opinions and critiques to my work. If you didn't read the Flamel series I strongly recommend it, but do not worry – main points of interest will be explained as the story progresses, since the site's policy forbids making just explaining pages, I must weave it into the story. It will be set before **_**The Alchemyst **_**and during **_**The Order of the Phoenix**_**. I realize that the time does not match in these two, but to be honest – I don't care! Now, sit back and enjoy~!**

**I DO NOT OWN **HARRY POTTER **SERIES**  
**I DO NOT OWN** THE IMMORTAL NICHOLAS FLAMEL **SERIES**

**PROLOGUE**

_Cafés Verlet, Paris_

Just a block from the Comédie Française theatre and the Louvre, this century-old coffee shop, which stocks more than twenty varieties of single-origin beans and house blends, was about to become the host for the most important meeting in history. This was the place, where the fate of the world was to be determined.  
It all began with a long, black limousine with tainted windows, which parked on the opposite site of the shop, in the narrow road, next to the Jean Nicot's Restaurant. The limo's door opened and a man walked out of it. He was quite tall with long, dark hair tied in a ponytail, trimmed circle beard and sunglasses covering his eyes. He didn't have a typical chauffeur's uniform, only sleek, double-breasted suit with white shirt and matching, black tie. He looked at the shop in front of him, adjusted his black gloves and went to open the passenger's side doors.  
A young woman was sitting there, no older than seventeen. Her skin was pale, dappled with freckles, and her round face was dominated by grass green eyes. Her short red hair was so vibrant that one could think she had dyed it that color. She was also dressed formally, in black striped suit and matching pants. She smoothly exit the car, tilted her head and gave her driver a quick glance.  
"Here?" she asked. Her accent was soft and vaguely Celtic: Irish or Scottish. The chauffeur just nodded. The girl only sighed and went towards the coffee shop.

Inside reminded more of a market place rather than a coffee shop. Right next to the entrance, there were sacks filled with beans of different kind like Ethiopian Mocha or India Mysore. A long counter on the right displayed a variety of coffee accessories available to purchase. The tables were small, fit for maximum two people. The woman looked around quickly and looked at her partner.  
"Upstairs." he explained, not even waiting for a question. His voice was like a snap; husky and dry with a note suggesting Asian origin.  
"Didn't think she had strength to walk the stairs." the woman replied with something, that was supposed to be a joke and they both went more into the shop.  
The cozy window seats in the upstairs room were particularly enviable, a completely different atmosphere in contrast to the main room, filled with tiny tables. At one of them was sitting a rather ordinary-looking elderly woman in a neat gray blouse and a long, gray skirt. Short and round, her hair tightly permed and touched faintly with blue, only the overlarge black glasses covering much of her face set her apart. A white cane was folded in her right hand.  
"Just for your information, young lady," she spoke with a decided New York accent. "My legs are far more better then you could have imagine. And, wait, actually…" her words dissolved into a language that seemed to consist of a lot of spitting sounds… which the woman clearly understood. The driver just looked at them, clearly oblivious to their conversation.  
"Gran…," the woman began.  
"Don't _Gran _me, Aoife." the old lady said, dropping into English again. "Why hadn't you come to see me in the past century? You're even worse than your sister, she hasn't contact me in three hundred and seventy-two years, eight months and four days!"  
"Gran, let me remind you," Aoife sighed again and pointed at her companion. "That it was by _your _orders that me and Niten were to watch over San Francisco, after that earthquake in 1906 created by the immortal _humani_ John Dee."  
"I could have been dead and no one would have known. Nor cared." the lady continued, without even catching a breath. "Why, only last century I was desperately ill, and no one called, no one wrote…"  
"Madame Endor," Niten interrupted her carefully.  
"Call me Dora, everyone does." she snapped only and turned her attention to Aoife again "You've lost weight. Are you eating properly?"  
"Gran, I've looked like this for two and a half thousand years."  
"So you're saying I'm going blind now, eh?" Dora asked, then burst into surprisingly deep laughter. She removed her glasses, revealing eyeballs without irises, covered with a cloudy-like substance.  
"Give your old Gran a hug."  
Aoife carefully hugged the old woman and kissed her cheek.  
"It's good to see you, Gran. You're looking well."  
"I'm looking old. Do I look old?"  
"Not a day over ten thousand." Aoife smiled, as she and Niten took seats next to the woman. She was constantly looking at the window, even though she was clearly blind.  
"The last person who mocked me about my age was a tax inspector." she smiled, reminding the event. "I turned him into a paper weight."  
"I see your sense of humor still hasn't change, my dear Zephaniah." another voice said and the air around the table instantly filled with a scent of pomegranates.  
A woman approached them. Tall and broad, she looked as if she had been carved from a solid slab of marble. The merest fuzz of black hair covered her skull like a close-fitting cap, and her features were sharp and angular: High cheekbones; straight, pointed nose; sharply defined chin; lips so thin they were almost nonexistent. Her eyes were the color of butter, shaped like a cat's. She wore a long, simple gown made of shimmering material that moved gently in a wind that didn't seem to touch anything around her. When it shifted, rainbow colors would run down its length, like oil on water. Without an invitation, she sit down joining the rest of the group.  
"Hekate," Zephaniah said. "Glad you could make it on time."

"So, everybody is here?" Hekate asked looking at Aoife and Niten. "To be honest I _was _expecting more of us to show up."  
"My sister is still absent." Aoife stated. "As well as two immortal _humani _from France."  
"The Maid of Orleans is one of them." Zephaniah added. "The second one is her husband, Saint-Germain."  
Aoife pursed her lips, hearing the last name and for just a split second her emerald eyes turned red. She clenched her small fist and the air around their table filled with the scent of spruce. Niten placed his hand on her shoulder. Spruce mixed with a smell of green tea, creating a soothing atmosphere.  
"Why do we need that thief?" Aoife asked through her teeth. "He's nothing but trouble!"  
"Aoife…" Zephaniah interrupted her. "This meeting is not a place for a confrontation between you and the Count. We are uniting against the mutual enemy, so accept that and try to cooperate!"  
"Yes, Gran…" Aoife said humbly, bowing her head a bit. "I'm sorry."  
"And speaking of unity," Hekate added. "Only they answered our call? I thought we sent a message to every Elder sympathetic to the cause and let the Alchemist, Nicholas Flamel, and his wife, the Sorceress Perenelle, gather their immortal friends. So why only seven of us?"  
"Oh, you know Flamel – he likes to talk. And meeting the old friends? That's his reason to talk his heart out."  
"Like you never done that, sweetie."  
Two voices answered Hekate's question, as they approached the table. The man was tall and lean, dressed like a rock musician, with leather jacket, jeans, silver pendants and expensive-looking rings on the fingers. He had black hair, with noticeable streaks of gray, tied in a ponytail and an anchor beard. His eyes were covered by sunglasses. He was accompanied by a petite, angelic-looking woman. She was small, with short blonde hair, large blue eyes and a tiny pug nose. Although she was slim, there was certainly a trace of military training judging by her arms – they were accommodated to holding a sword. She, in contrast to the man, was wearing plain, white summer dress and matching shoes.  
"Good to see you, _madame _Endor." the man bowed courteously.  
"Francis." Zephaniah nodded. "Good to see you and your wife again."  
"I had to wake him up three of four times." Joan of Arc laughed, going standing on tip toe to ruffle her husband's hair. "He is such a sleepyhead whenever he finishes playing in that record studio."  
"Hey, a man has to do his career." Saint-Germain laughed, as they both took their seats.  
"Now the only one left is Scathach." Niten said.  
"Oh, Scatty will be here?" Joan clearly cheered up more. "I haven't seen her in ages! I think she wasn't even at our wedding."  
A loud thumping on the stairs leading upstairs alerted everyone of a person clearly in hurry.  
"And she's here." Aoife muttered, as the next woman joined their table.  
"Sorry… I'm… late!" she huffed, wiping the swear from her face. "Stupid… Hydra…" she leaned to catch her breath.  
By the first glance, she looked _exactly _ like Aoife – the same figure, pale skin, green eyes and fiercely red hair. The only difference was that the newly arrived girl's hair were shorter and more spiky. Also, her skin was dappled with freckles and her outfit reminded more of a military commander rather than a businesswoman, like her sister. She had an olive tank top, cargo trousers and heavy military boots.  
"Scatty!" Joan let a squeak and just a second later both women hugged and started speaking French so quickly even the natives wouldn't understand them.  
"It seems that everybody finally arrived." Hekate announced. "We have Zephaniah, the Witch of Endor, Francis de Saint-Germain, immortal Count, Jeanne d'Arc, the Maid of Orleans, Miyamoto Musashi, the Sword Master and the warrior sisters – Scathach, the Shadow and Aoife of the Shadows. I, Hekate, The Triple-Faced Goddess, start the Elder Alliance meeting now."

After that short speech, the air around the participants felt heavy from the strength of aromas. Different scent mixed together, forming a barrier-like atmosphere, a normal person would faint from the intensity of so many different smells. There was spruce, pomegranates, green tea, lavender, burnt wood, burnt leaves and rusty and metallic stench of blood. Soon, after the smells, the colors joined. Puffs and streaks of colorful smoke escaped the bodies of everybody, forming above them. Darker gray and light gray mixed together as Aoife and Scathach looked at each other. Soon after that royal blue, red and green joined them, forming a parasol-like shield above, reaching to the roof of the shop. Lastly, brown smoke covered everything, turning the mixture of color into black and enclosing everybody in a bubble.  
"Good." Hekate said. "This temporal Shadow Realm shall guarantee a secrecy to the meeting and will prevent any _humani_, immortal or not, from eavesdropping."  
As soon as she said that, two new color and scents joined to the protective bubble. White and wisteria. Coffee and coconut.  
"Whoa, barely made it." a young male voice said, trying to force himself through the darkness.  
"Not a big deal, lil' man" a much deeper and soothing voice answered as both men came to light. "I told ya' we could make it."  
The taller one was dark-skinned had more muscle than his companion, with dreadlocks and piercing, yellow eyes. His age could be put around thirty, maybe thirty five. He was wearing an elegant three-piece suit, black pants and matching shoes. In his right hand, he held a cane adorned with silver skull on top and there was a top hat on his head. The most distinguished feature was a face paint, a white skull.  
His companion, on the other hand, was young, about seventeen or eighteen, with blue eyes and a head of dusty brown hair. Despite his age, he appeared old and bedraggled, wearing a distressed leather trenchcoat, a frayed scarf knitted in a zigzag pattern, and Victorian-style waistcoat. He also wore also aged trousers, a box-frame belt with several fastener pins and studded pinholes, and combat boots adorned with weathered gaiters, which had a few buttons missing.  
Scathach was the first one to speak.  
"Okay, I remember Samedi." she nodded towards the dark-skinned dandy. "But who's the scruffy one?"  
"Ah, Mister Fogg, you made it." Zephaniah said. "Good. Join us. I see Baron Samedi also graced us with his presence."  
"Oh, my apologies, dear lady." Samedi approached and kissed Zephaniah's hand. "It was a drag getting here from the Caribbean."  
"Two more. So there's nine of us." Hekate said, nodding in approval.  
"Ten." the raggedy man named Fogg corrected her, taking a seat. "There is one more person, but they can't join us right now."  
"That makes twelve with the Flamels." Joan added.  
"A good number." Hekate said. "Twelve hours in a clock, that's a good sign."  
"Now, for those who aren't familiar." Zephaniah said. "Let me introduce Edward Fogg. He's a newly created immortal _humani _who joined our ranks."  
"Who is your master?" Aoife asked.  
"Veles, The Forest Guardian." Edward answered.  
"I see." she muttered. "If it's him, then you surely went through a powerful magic training, didn't you?"  
"Correct." he replied. "That's wasn't the most pleasant experience, thank you very much. Especially Baba Yaga's methods." he shook his head, as if trying to forget the memory.  
"He has already experienced his Awakening and learned the basics of the Four Elements." Zephaniah said. "I think he will be a perfect candidate to act as our spy."  
"Well then," Hekate said. "Let me explain the purpose of our meeting."

"As you know, it all revolves around Aura," Hekate started. "The electrical field that surrounds every living organism. When an Aura is Awakened, the owner of that Aura has the ability to be trained in magics and enhances their senses to a superhuman level."  
"An aura surrounds nearly every living thing," Zephaniah continued. "Be it a _humani_, Elder, Next Generation, Immortal, monster, or anything in general apart from Archons. Each person's aura is different from any other in color, shape, scent, and abilities."  
"But, there is one kind, that must be carefully observed. A color of destruction – Black Aura." Hekate added. "This paticular kind has no scent and a horrible ability of absorbing other auras and assimilating it, strenghtening the user."  
"Just like Lotan. Or sphinx. Or vampires." Saint-Germain said, earning himself a glare from Scathach and Aoife.  
"Do _not _compare us to the Black Aura." Scatty hissed and Aoife bared her longer fangs.  
"Anyway." Niten interrupted them, saving Saint-Germain from vampire attack. "We know about the Black Aura, ladies. But, what does it have to do with the meeting."  
"In the past I had… a bit of a strife with Zephaniah." Hekate said. "And we made a little bet. I personally Awakened few _humani _and taught them the art of magic. Throughout the centuries, they have developed a splendid society and kept on using their magic in modern ways. However, I must admit, they grew lazy."  
"I noticed that too." Zephaniah added. "Most of them have already forgotten about the Awakening ritual and somehow use only a tiny bit of their Aura through wooden wands or potions. Needless to say, the art of Four Elements also is ommited. The things they describe as _higher magic _is merely a bunch of childish tricks."  
"However, there are geniuses born in that society." Hekate said. "Like Merlin, the immortal _humani_, or our friend Nicholas Flamel. Those geniuses can harvest full potential of their Auras. And now, one of them is the Black Aura user."  
Hekate tapped the surface of the table. A shipy spark jumped from her fingertip and started to emit green smoke which smelled like pomegranates. Soon, the mist shaped itself into a human body. The man had a pale white skin, a skeletally thin body, and dark scarlet eyes with cat-like slits for pupils. He had a chalk-white face that resembled a skull, snake-like slits for nostrils, and long, thin hands with unnaturally long fingers like spider's legs. Also, he had no hair or lips; long, sharp, pale blue fingernails and took to wearing a black hooded cloak, as well as several sets of elegant black robes.  
"Well, aren't you a handsome fellow." Edward smiled, looking cloasely at the holographic model.  
"This is Thomas Marvolo Riddle." Hekate said. "After his Awakening and the Change, he is now known as Lord Voldemort."  
"Voldemort?" Joan repeated. "_The Flight of Death_ ? Isn't that a bit… dramatic?"  
"Did you say _Change_ ?" Aoife noticed. "He is a _humani_, right? How could he undergone the Change?"  
"We do not know that" Hekate replied.  
"Excuse me," Saint Germain said. "What is this 'Change' thing?"  
"The Change," Zephaniah answered. " Is a process that is seen to affect most Elders and Great Elders when they come to be of a great age. It changes their appearance in some way, which is said to reflect one's true self. Abraham the Mage was the original creator of the Change, as a way to punish Elders for their deeds to the _humani_ and other races but it grew slightly out of hand and even effected The Mage himself."  
"So, how can this Voldemort be affected by the Change?" Niten asked, scratching his beard.  
"I said, we don't know." Hekate replied. "He breaks the laws of the magic society as well as our laws of immortality and now he went through the Change while being _humani_."  
"The only way this could happen, is if he took the Change _from _the Elder." Zephaniah stated.  
"For example, by using the Black Aura." Edward added. "I don't think he knew about the Change, otherwise he wouldn't risk getting it. He assmiliated the essence of an Elder, taking his powers and the Change with it."  
"He would've need help. I doubt a _humani _could face the Elder on his own." Scathach suggested.  
"Apophis the Serpent." Samedi's deep, booming voice announced. "This Change could be his. And if it is, then our Voldy's helping hand would be Loki of the Next Generation."  
"So let's put everything together." Joan said. "Apophis and Loki had a fight going on. One of them had to back off from the fight, because his Change started, altering his appearance and causing pain. Loki thought of this as an opportuinity. He found an ambitious human, Thomas Riddle, and became his _guardian_, let's call it – he Awakened him and presented a way to achieve immortality, possibly a fake one. The only thing, Tom had to do, was to capture the Great Snake Apophis and, with Loki's help, absorb his essence, using his own talent – the Black Aura. However, Loki did something to get most of the Aura himself and leaving Tom with only the Change, which altered his appearance."  
"That makes a lot of sense." Aoife nodded.  
"Good job, Ms. Holmes." Saint-Germain kissed his wife on the temple.  
"Elementary, my dear Watson." Joan joked.

"I hope you now undestand," Hekate said. "How vital it is, to stop Lord Voldemort from achieving his goals. Usually, when a _humani _obtains immortality on his own, we do not interfere…"  
"Ekhm…" Saint-Germain cleared his throat. "Do I need to remind you, when _I _became immortal, ou sent a troop of gargoyles after me?"  
"Which is why I said _usually_, Count." Hekate asnwered calmly. "Pay attention, please."  
"This time, however." Zephaniah continued for Hekate. "The immortal _humani _ can pose a threat to everybody. If he made connections with Loki or Apophis, we could be in even more trouble. Which is why Hekate and I came up with a plan. Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, has already established a connection with Albus Dumbledore – a powerful _humani _ wizard, who agreed to help. He created an organization of sorcerers, called the Order of the Phoenix, whose goal is to defead Voldemort. We will sent our representatives to join the Order."  
"Basically, we are the country which sends weaponry to other country to defeat the rebellion." Saint-Germain summarized.  
"Correct." Niten nodded.  
"But this weapon is a mass-destruction one, ha!" Samedi laughed.  
"Edward has been trained by Veles and other masters of Eastern Europe." Zephaniah said. "He is the first of our representatives. For the second one, I believe Scathach would be the most aprporiate."  
Scatty, who began to doze off, instantly stood up.  
"Me?!" she looked around. "Why, it's not my problem!"  
"It's _everyone's _ problem, Scatty." Aoife said. "Deal with it."  
"Well, why don't _you_ go, sis?"  
"I wish. Unfortunately, me and Niten, we have a city to protect."  
"Scatty," Joan looked at her friend. "You are the most powerful and capable warrior in history. Every martial art, every style of combat has a common root – you. Sometimes, where magic isn't enough, a sword is needed."  
"And who can be a better help, than the famous Scathach." Edaward said, smiling mockingly. "She'll probably not tell you much about herself, so I'll tell you that she is of the Elder Race and has trained every warrior and hero of legend for the past two thousand years. In mythology she is known as the Warrior Maid, the Shadow, the Daemon Slayer, the King Maker, the…"  
"Fine, I'll do it, just call me Scatty," the young woman said, her cheeks turning the same color as her hair.  
"So, Edward and Scathach will join Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel in England, to join Albus Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix." Hekate summarized.  
"Not only we, lady Hekate." Edward said. "We also must pick up one more person, the one I told you about earlier. His alchemical wisdom is on pair with that of Flamel's, so he would be a valuable asset."  
"Who is it?" Samedi asked.  
"Eastern Master of Air, the immortal alchemist and the discoverer of oxygen – Michael Sendivogius." Edaward replied. "My Air Magic teacher."

"Now, if it's everything we need to now," Zephaniah said suddenly. "I would like to take a minute in private to talk to our _spies_."  
As soon as she said that, the darkness swallowed the other characters and they disappeared from the protective bubble of temporal Shadow Realm. Only Edward and Scatty remained.  
"So, Mr. Fogg," Zephaniah said. "How old are you now?"  
"…Seventeen." he replied carefully. "Well, seventeen and a half."  
"Seventeen and a half," The Witch said, shaking her head. "I can't remember back that far." She dipped her chin, then tilted it toward Scatty. "Can you remember back to when you were seventeen?"  
"Vividly," Scathach said grimly. "Wasn't that about the time I visited you in Babylon and you tried to marry me off to King Nebuchadnezzar?"  
"I'm sure you're wrong," Zephaniah said happily. "I think that was later. Though he would have made an excellent husband," she added.  
She looked up at Edward and the boy found himself reflected in the mirrors that were the Witch's eyes.  
"Let me tell you, I do not doubt in Sendivogius' ability to teach. The last time _I_ instructed a _humani_ in Air Magic, it took him sixty years to master the basics, and even then he fell out of the sky on his first flight."  
"Gran," Scatty said. "Is there anything _else _you want to tell us."  
"Oh, there is a lot I want to tell you, Scathach. Whole three centuries of telling." the Witch looked at her, but turned her attention to Edward. "Who taught you other Arts of Magic?"  
"Lord Veles Awakened me, taught me basics and Earth Magic. Master Sendivogius instructed me in Air; Doctor Faust gave me the understanding of Fire and Baba Yaga showed me how to tame Water." Edward replied.  
"So, you have the power and you have the abilities." Zephaniah said. "All you need is knowledge."  
"This will not hurt," the Witch said. Edward doubted it could be any worse than what he'd already gone through. His nose wrinkled at the odor of burnt wood, and he felt a cool breeze wash over his hands. He looked down. A gossamer – thin, white spiderweb was twisting and spinning from the Witch of Endor's fingers and wrapping itself like a bandage around each of Edward's fingers. It curled across his palm, completely covering it, then wrapped around his wrist and crept up his arm. He realized then that the Witch had been distracting him with her questions. Edward looked into the Witch's mirrored eyes and found that he could not put his questions into words. It was as if he had lost the ability to speak. He was also surprised that instead of feeling frightened, from the moment the Witch had taken his hand, a wave of peace and calm had washed through his body. He glanced sideways at Scatty. She were watching the process, wide-eyed with shock and with something like horror on her face.  
"Gran… are you sure about this?" Scathach demanded.  
"Of course I'm sure," the old woman snapped, a note of anger in her voice. And even though the Witch of Endor was speaking to Scathach, Edward could hear her voice in his head, talking to him, whispering ancient secrets, murmuring archaic spells, divulging a lifetime of knowledge in the space of heartbeats and breaths.  
"This is not a spiderweb," Zephaniah explained, noticing that Edward was staring intently at the webs spinning around his arms. "It is concentrated air mixed with my own Aura. All my knowledge, my experience, even my lore is gathered in this web of air. Once it touches your skin, you will begin to absorb that knowledge."  
Edward breathed deeply, drawing the wood-scented air deep into his lungs. Images flashed impossibly fast in his head, times and places long past, cyclopean walls of stone, ships of solid gold, dinosaurs and dragons, a city carved into a mountain of ice and faces… hundreds, thousands of faces, from every race of mankind, from every time period, human and half human, werebeast and monster. He was seeing everything the Witch of Endor had ever seen.  
"The Egyptians got it wrong," Zephaniah continued, her hands now moving too fast for anyone to see. "They wrapped the dead," she continued. "They did not realize I wrapped the living. There was a time when I put a little of myself into my followers and sent them out into the world to teach in my name. Obviously someone saw this process in the ancient past and tried to copy it."  
Edward suddenly saw a dozen people wrapped up like him, and a younger-looking Zephaniah moving among them, dressed in a costume from ancient Babylon. Somehow he understood that these were the priests and priestesses in the cult that worshipped the Witch. Zephaniah was passing on a little of her knowledge to them so that they could go out into the world and teach others.  
The white weblike air now flowed down Edward's legs, binding them together. Unconsciously, he brought his hands up across his chest, right hand on his left shoulder, left hand on his right shoulder.  
The Witch of Endor touched Edward's cheek and the boy opened his eyes. The whites were dotted with silver sparkles.  
"This is a terrifying gift I have given you. Within you now is a lifetime - very long lifetime - of experience. I hope some will be of use to you in the dire days ahead." Edward stood before the Witch of Endor completely encased in the white bandage-like air. This was not like the Awakening. This was a gentler, subtler process. He discovered that he knew things - incredible things. He had memories of impossible times and extraordinary places. But mixed with these memories and emotions were his own she was beginning to find it hard to tell hem apart. Then the smoke began to curl and hiss and steam.  
Zephaniah suddenly turned to look for Scatty.  
"Come and give me a hug, child. I will not see you again."  
"Gran?"  
Zephaniah wrapped her arms around Scathach's shoulders and put her mouth close to her ear. Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "I have given this boy a rare and terrible power. Make sure this power is used for good."  
Scathach nodded, not entirely sure what the old woman was suggesting.  
"And call your mother. She worries about you."  
"I will, Gran."

* * *

**A/N.: So, I finally had a motivation to write this thing again, and this time I will try my best to complete this story. I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I am enjoying writing it. For anyone who knows **_**The Secrets of Immortal Nicholas Flamel**_**, I must say that this is a kind of AU – it is set before Book 1 and, as you might've noticed the scene of Edward and Zephaniah is clearly a rip-off of Sophie's mummification, sorry about that, I just found that really apropriate. Feel free to post a review, if you think that I deserve it and I'll see you in the next one~!**


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